“He told me it was just a fling,” she said defensively.

Liz rolled her eyes. “One night is a fling. Two nights. A week of nothing but fucking and no talking whatsoever. But you guys? Please tell me he wasn’t dumb enough to really say that, and that you’re not dumb enough to believe it. You guys needed to talk about this, not have some stupid fight that neither of you meant just to make it easier to leave.”

“It wasn’t just some stupid fight,” Julia said defensively, even though she’d thought the same thing a million times before. “He acted like I have, I don’t know, intimacy issues.” She wrinkled her noise. “That’s hitting below the belt.”

“You do have intimacy issues, sweetheart,” Liz said matter-of-factly. “Obviously he does, too. That’s why you talk about it.” She over-annunciated the last part, as though explaining to a child not quite able to grasp the concept.

“I can’t believe I’m getting lectured on communication by you,” Julia grumbled.

“I know,” Liz agreed. “It may be the strangest thing that’s ever happened in the whole history of our friendship.”

Julia couldn’t help it. She cracked a smile.

“Almost as strange as the fact that I saw Rob last night and still want to see him again tonight,” she added, and Julia raised an eyebrow.

“That is surprising,” she said, grateful as usual for Liz’s ability to turn any conversation back to herself.

“Which is why you have to come to the show tonight to check him out again. I need to know what you think.”

“Yeah, fine, of course I’m going,” Julia sighed.

“I think Blake went to see Jamie because he was scared,” Liz said as they got their coats and headed to the door. “He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t want to look like he was hanging around waiting for you to invite him.”

“I think he went to see Jamie because he wanted to,” Julia said crossly. “After all, he made it quite clear that we had come to the end. And anyway, Jamie’s his friend.”

“So? You can have friends and still have a life. You’re acting like this was inevitable.”

“Wasn’t it? He’s some hotshot TV writer and producer in Sydney. I’m a math teacher in Chicago. We only met because we were both completely out of our elements, but we can’t live outside our real lives forever. Sooner or later, things would have to get practical anyway.”

“Why?” Liz asked. And it was in the way she cocked her head at Julia, with that puzzled expression as she unlocked the car door, that Julia knew the question was a serious one.

Why did they have to get practical? Because that was what life was. Someone had to be there to take care of the everyday issues, the day in day out, the problems as they inevitably arose. Someone had to live in Chicago and trudge through the snow and smile at the other couples and laugh even when the jokes weren’t funny.

Didn’t they?

More to the point, didn’t she?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Months passed. The snow melted and the spring came too slow, like it always did. A painful unfolding full of fits and false starts. Flowers pushed up the first sunny weekend only to crumple in the next frost. The restaurants put out their sidewalk seating and found the chairs dusted in snow.

But eventually the sun came, the afternoons warmed, and then it was June, another school year over. On the last day of teaching Julia went out for drinks with her co-workers after class like she always did. Dutifully she clinked glasses around the table, congratulating everyone on a job well done. But every time a cry of “Cheers!” went up, she cringed. She’d held Blake’s eyes every time they said it and what did it matter? She was alone.

She made her excuses and headed home, but it was only to change out of her work clothes before going out again. Julia had been roped into dinner with Danny and Amy, and with Liz and Rob, who were still going strong. It was Liz’s longest relationship in forever, and while Julia was happy for her friend, she couldn’t help feeling like the third—or really fifth—wheel sometimes. Rob was supposed to be bringing a friend of his to dinner in some kind of awkward set-up for Julia. She wasn’t exactly interested, but she still didn’t know what to wear.

“The floral number with the low neck,” Liz said over the phone as Julia stood in front of her closet, frowning.

“Too much cleavage for a stranger. I don’t even know the guy.” Julia tucked the phone against her shoulder and rifled through the hangers.

“All the more reason to show off, silly. What about one of those cute sundresses you have? With a little shawl for later, it’ll be perfect for the garden bar.”

But Julia knew which sundresses Liz was talking about. The blue dress Blake had hitched up over her hips as he took her under the waterfall. The red one she’d worn in Rio, feeling his hand idly slide up the straps when they started to slip.

She’d tried to forget about “her Brazilian thing,” as Liz called it. But months later everything still reminded her of Blake. Something she read, a thing someone said, something she wanted to do…

On the nights when she let her resolution slide and stayed late working, assuring everyone else that they could go home to be with their families while she finished up the work that needed to be done, she wished she had Blake there to remind her that she didn’t have to be the one taking care of everyone else.

She wished she had Blake there to take care of her sometimes.

“I take it that’s a no.” Liz’s voice cut in. “So I guess we’re stuck with the usual, dark jeans and something cute on top. At least go for flimsy cute, not teacher cute—okay?”

“Sure,” Julia said. But she’d stopped paying attention. Automatically her hand had strayed to the soft fabric folded in the back of her closet. She hadn’t been able to get rid of the white skirt and shirt. She’d never wear them again, obviously, so they sat hidden. But even though she’d washed them, she swore they still smelled like salt water and champagne.

“You’re moping,” Liz said into the silence.

Julia drew her hand back quickly, as though caught. “I’m not. I’m just…tired. Everything was nuts wrapping up at school.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating? It’s summer, the only time I’m jealous of your job.”

Julia laughed, making herself pull away from the outfit she couldn’t believe she’d actually worn.

“I’m serious,” Liz said. “Tonight is to make sure you start your break right. You have these months off and you should take advantage of it. Sleep until noon. Go swimming every day. Have an affair or three.”

Julia snorted over the phone.

“Or if that doesn’t work, you could finally buy that goddamn plane ticket to Australia I know you keep thinking about.”

Julia groaned. “I am not going to Australia.”

“Why not?” Liz said, and Julia wished they could go back to her wardrobe crisis instead of rehashing this whole conversation again. Ever since the postcard arrived, Liz hadn’t been able to let go of the ridiculous idea that Julia had an actual future with Blake. One in which they weren’t running around for a week, but were together. All the time.

A couple, even though Julia couldn’t wrap her mind around what that would look like for them.

Whenever she brought up that minor detail, Liz would conveniently fall silent. I don’t know, you’ll figure it out, she’d scold, like that was the easy part. Like Chicago to Sydney was a distance that could be easily bridged.

But it couldn’t. And so when the postcard came, into the closet it went, alongside the clothes from New Year’s Eve.

It wasn’t even much of a card. On the front was a picture of an enormous waterfall. On the back he’d written simply: Thinking of you. Not much from someone who was—she knew from re-watching The Everlastings more times than she’d care to admit—extremely capable with words.